Although our family did not own many books when I was small, I remember being read to from an early age. My Nan (my Dad's mother, whose lived with us), would read me stories. Also, I remember being ill, with measles or something similar, and my elder sister read stories to me to cheer me up.
One of my earliest memories of owning a book, and reading it myself, was 'The Island of the Pines' by Elleston Trevor. This was an exciting story about squirrels and badgers who lived on an island in the middle of a lake, and were effectively at war with the evil stoats, ferrets and weasels on the mainland. It was written in a fairly whimsical style, and has given our family the wonderful word 'catamapult'.
My Mum disposed of the book at some point, without my knowledge, and when I found out I was rather sad. However, Chris managed to get hold of a copy for my birthday some years ago, to my great delight.
Now this Ferret had been expecting to find a small Squirrel sitting in the room, and it's rather interesting to note that instead of finding that sort of a folk, he discovered there was a sudden looming-noise from the ceiling, and before he'd had any time to look around to see what was looming at him, it had loomed.